Coming Clean
by InsufferableFirecracker
Summary: In an idealized world, love would not be an ugly thing. It would simply be a gift. People would love freely, love openly, and the confines of what is socially acceptable would all fall away. However, this is not an idealized world, and love is not always fair. There is no correct answer, but hearts are selfish things, and eventually Yang will have to choose.
1. Chapter 1

**Coming Clean – A Freezerburn Fan Fiction - Chapter 1:**

It was hot on Patch during the summer months. The woman curled in bed found them almost stifling. The mornings were humid and clammy, the afternoons dry and sunny. Rain came by frequently enough too, but that just made the air thick enough to eat. It was nothing like the snowy weather found in Atlas, where the chill nipped at her bones on a good day. It wasn't even like the dry heat found in the desert of Vacuo, which if Weiss were honest, she absolutely hated. Dry heat and humid heat both shared the same inherent issue.

It was just too damn hot for anyone who grew up in the north.

Weiss yawned as she woke up, laying around in bed for a few spare moments. Unsurprisingly, she found the sheets sticking to her skin unpleasantly. She practically peeled them from her body as she sat up, finding the other side of her bed empty.

Her palm reach out to the space beside her. She pressed against the sheets. The other side of the bed was cooler and dryer than it should feel, given the tepid morning temperature and who normally inhabited that side of the bed. Weiss knew she shouldn't have expected it to be any different. Yang was an early riser. It was almost an unspoken routine for her to be so restless.

Sadly, logic was not a balm for bitterness, and questions unanswered were poisonous things. Flinging herself from the confines of the bed, she headed to the bathroom. It was possible that Yang might have doused herself in a cool bath. Far from likely, but, possible all the same.

 _"_ _Or not…"_ Weiss thought to herself. The bath was bone dry. It hadn't even been used, which was strange in and of itself. Yang forwent her morning shower entirely it seemed.

Deciding not to think too deeply on the matter, Weiss turned on the cool water for the shower and disrobed, stepping into the spray. Her home was on the outskirts of the island. Her own little piece of paradise that she used as a vacation spot. When she wasn't on a hunting mission, dealing with extremists, or bickering in family related squabbles, she came here for rest and relaxation. A little peace and quiet was good for the soul, and she silently liked the fact that it was so close to Yang and Ruby's childhood home, and that it also wasn't very far from Vale.

Her heart ached a little at the thought of her friends. Ruby was gone away on an extended mission, and Yang had a tendency to come as go as she saw fit. Weiss wasn't quite sure where Yang had ventured off to this time, but it was the fact that Yang had ventured off at all that cackled like a malicious omen. Weiss had her demons, her misgivings as obvious to her as the accomplishments that she prided herself on. Being alone was a fear she had known since childhood.

It was no less terrifying as an adult.

The fear haunted her in the idle time. Whispering to her that one day, she would be left abandoned. Alone. With too many things left unfinished, and an unsatisfactory conclusion to the little things that she wished went on forever. With concern at the forefront of her mind, she finished washing her hair and dragged herself out of the cool water, toweling herself off. The house always seemed so lonely without Yang around.

Inherently, there wasn't anything wrong with being lonely. It was a good way to reflect. To renew her thankfulness in the ruckus her friends provided. It made the heart grow fonder too, or so she had been told. Although, she wasn't entirely convinced of that, because science argued otherwise.

"That troublesome pyromaniac. Just where on Remnant did she get to?" Weiss asked herself as she stared in the mirror, her image glaring daggers back. Obviously it wouldn't answer her. She picked up her discarded nightgown and her underwear tossing them into the hamper. Then she stripped the sweat soaked sheets, dumping them in as well. She grabbed a new set from the supply closet, dressing the bed and flopping down upon them.

Eyes closed, if she focused, she could smell the sports deodorant that lingered faintly in the room.

Yang applied it so liberally in the summer months. Failing to do so made her reek. Her Semblance was to blame for that. The woman was a walking furnace. So much so that even on the coldest night in Atlas, she had still walked around nonchalantly as Weiss shivered from the chill. As Weiss recalled that memory, it carved a stab of pain in her chest. Yang's kindness on that night was merely that. A kindness. Sharing her warmth came so naturally to her. She would have put her arm around anyone, Weiss wasn't a special case.

Weiss cursed at that. Forcing down the jealousy threatening to consume her. More annoyed than she wanted to admit, she put on a fresh set of underwear and tugged her powder blue silk robe off from the hanger. It was as dressed as she was going to get.

Stepping out into the open area of her house, she half expected to see Yang's gear strewn across her kitchen counter. It wouldn't be the first time a yellow helmet sat in the middle of her kitchen counter, or that a leather vest draped itself across one of the stools. Yang's keys made an appearance most of the time, often in the way of the coffee pot. Such messes were so iconic for Yang that Weiss had come to expect them. In most cases, she even welcomed them as part of Yang's carefree demeanor.

However, today, like most days, the kitchen was pristine. Exactly as she had left it the day before. A single mug sitting in the sink from the tea she drank before bed. Not a thing had disturbed the peaceful serenity of her home, and there was no sign of life. Another pang of jealousy pounded into her. A niggling thought that Yang was visiting someone else.

A very particular someone else, with an equal predilection towards keepings Yang to herself, and had an apartment in Vale.

Although she would never admit it to anyone, Weiss Schnee prepared her morning coffee much more violently than she normally did, vexed as she was about the whole situation.

She tried not to feel so jealous, so angry, for no good reason. Weiss had done her best to lock her feelings away, to crumple them up and toss them aside like worthless scraps of paper. She wanted to keep Yang all to herself, to tell the woman the truth. Weiss failed to do that at all, even though she was sure that Yang knew. In fact, Yang had to know by now, and that made everything so much worse.

Weiss wasn't sure when it started precisely, and for the countless time, she sat there, hopelessly trying to figure it out. Her lonely day edged into a lonely afternoon.

An entire pot of coffee later, she switched to wine. Unfortunately, a wine glass in hand did nothing to help her. It was a terrible habit, surely, but as she brought the red liquid to her lips, she couldn't rightly care. Instead, she lamented her aching soul, nursing it with what little staying power the wine provided. It was only a slight fortification against the harsh torrent going on in her mind. She thought about Yang, how her feelings for the woman had somehow blossomed without either one of them noticing when exactly it happened.

Or, maybe, it was just that Yang simply didn't care how many hearts she stole away in her life.

It was a thought made in bitterness, sure, but something that lay as a dormant possibility. Weiss traced the fading lines of memory for what they were, days gone by with no real rhyme or reason. That night she ate dinner alone, sitting in the same listless position she had all day. She had only gotten up a few time through the day. A few to use the powder room, a few to refill her glass, thrice to get something to snack on, and once to get the mail.

So, why was she so exhausted?

For this, she had only one answer. Time and routine were tiring things.

 _"Yang Xiao Long, why do you insisted on being so bloody complicated? Why do you push yourself to please such worthless people in your life? We greedy souls, who do nothing to deserve you in the slightest? We, who demand that you pick and choose, because we are not willing to share. Oh, who am I kidding? Frankly, we cannot share. It would be foolish to share. To do that undermines the sort of person that I am, and I'm sure, Blake feels the same. My heart is one thing I cannot compromise, selfish though as that may be."_

Just like the thoughts that kept washing over her, the wine washed over her tongue. Empty glass glimmering with a single drop that slid back down to the center, Weiss watched it. Fixated on it. As though the little drop of red was akin to a drop of blood. She tucked her chin in the palm of her free hand, spinning the glass gently in her other. She continued to watch the drop as it pooled at the bottom of the glass. As if, viewing the droplet from all sides might leave a mirror to something unseen.

 _"In an idealized world, love would not be an ugly thing. It would simply be a gift. People would love freely, love openly, and the confines of what is socially acceptable would all fall away. Yet, this is not an idealized world, and love is not always fair. There is no correct answer, but hearts are selfish things, and eventually Yang will have to choose. Sharing a lover is not fair, it is not ideal, and in too many ways it lacks the fulfilment of a stable, monogamous relationship. Those are the conclusions that I have come to. However, if I state that out loud, I would force Yang to pick one of us."_

In a rather unladylike manner, she tipped her glass back, catching that final drop on her tongue. There was no dignity in the act, but that was the ultimate crux of the issue at hand.

 _"There's no victory in this. In the end, someone will get hurt, and while I don't wish any pain upon Blake, I certainly don't want Yang to reject me, either. Yet, if this continues, we're all going to fray at the seams. We're selfish people, all of us."_

This circular way of thinking, the same dusty routines had gone on for months. Prior to that, they had tiptoed around each other for years. A strange friendship that bordered on something indisputably absurd by nature. Then again, the other woman involved in all of this was Yang. It would have been an insult to consider her friendship as anything other than completely asinine.

 _"Yang, I wish I could understand. Why spend your nights here, and then wander off in the morning? Why go to her? Why come back? Why force yourself to feel something that you simply aren't able to? What are you so afraid of, Yang? Why can't you just be honest with us? You have to choose, Yang, you have to. For Blake's sake, for mine, even for yours. This can't keep up. It won't hold, not like this. _Don't you realize I won't leave you, no matter your choice? I won't abandon you. Why can't you understand that? Why tremble at the idea of being left alone, when we're all afraid of the same thing? Where's the sense in that?"__

The terrible thoughts came to a screeching halt as the door clicked open, closing with a much louder slam a moment later. The slapping of keys hitting the counter, and the pull of a zipper effectively silenced the war knocking around deep within the confines of her mind. Yang was back for another night. At that exact moment, after a day of total isolation, that was all that mattered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Coming Clean – A Freezerburn Fan Fiction – Chapter 2:**

Weis had often thought to herself that the facts surrounding her love for Yang were simple. The reasons why were incredibly complicated.

They could both easily recall the first night they spent together. In retrospect, it was nothing but innocence then. Weiss and Yang found themselves mindlessly going through the motions, because that was the easy thing to do. Guilty murmurs sewn together by mutual pain chained them to reality. A shared reluctance to truly trust others again blanketed the both of them, but, Weiss was different.

She was very willing to cling onto the idea that the team could be put back together again. That, even though Blake was prone to running away, it wasn't the end of team RWBY. Weiss was so sure that Blake would return, but at the time, Yang couldn't even fathom such a thing. Not really. She could pretend that she trusted Blake to return, promise to work well with her, but that was all she could do.

In all honesty, at the time, forgiveness seemed impossible. Yang just couldn't understand why anyone would want to do those things.

The sting of betrayal hurt. It stabbed into her worse than any knife or sword, relentlessly reminding her of everything she had come to deny in her life. All of thing things she could never do. All of the things she could never be, and how worthless she was in the grand scheme. The truth was tangible to her now. She would be left behind over, and over, and over again. The others didn't feel that same biting sense of betrayal. They wanted Blake to come back, they wanted her to be part of their team and makeshift family once more.

Yang hated how fitting it was, because that's what her family tended to do.

Leave her behind. Emotionally, physically, mentally, even duty driven obligation had pulled family away from her. She knew the signs of each one, but none of that hurt any less. Excuses were the balm that eased the pain. As a child she clung onto them like little rays of hope, even the ones she knew were probably little white lies. False smiles and convoluted words of wisdom drifted in and out of her life. It was always like that, the same way as she grew older, but she had been fine with that.

At the time, she had Ruby to focus on. That distraction eased the pain too. It wasn't the same anymore. Ruby didn't need her the same way, didn't depend on Yang for every little detail.

Finally, the blonde could be selfish. She could do exactly as she wanted to do. That freedom was a larger burden than she knew what to do with. It was, in its own way, more crippling than losing her arm could ever be. She turned the facts over in her head, her thoughts like quicksand. Why wouldn't they be? Even her own mother didn't seem to give a damn about her.

If she couldn't trust her own blood, what could she trust?

Weiss could understand that question, at the very least.

* * *

That first night was a turning point for them.

It was late at night, Yang couldn't sleep. The tears pooling in her eyes stung, and she bit her lip as she rolled her back to Weiss so that across their shared room, Weiss wouldn't be able to see her. Staying perfectly still, controlling her breathing, the tears fell silently down Yang's cheeks. She was a master at this. Crying so as not to be noticed, never to be heard. She was an older sister after all. Self-soothing was her only outlet when she shared a room with Ruby. When they were children, she could never risk waking her little sister.

Now, she couldn't risk waking Weiss. The concept was the same. Silence was the price for being left alone.

It was selfishness perhaps, but Yang would never give others the gratification to see her cry like this. Broken and shaking, heat burning her throat as her eyes continued to leak. The sort of tears that stole away breath and logic all at the same time, leaving behind little more than the ugliness of the soul. It was as refreshing as it was painful.

"Yang." It was a soft sigh, the bed dipping to accommodate the slender woman's weight.

Yang froze like a statue as she felt Weiss touch her shoulder. The hesitant brush of fingers grew with insistence and pressure, as if to pluck the blonde away from some terrible nightmare. Now that Weiss knew, Yang felt trapped. Everything was uncontrollable now, she had no way to play it off. She wanted to push it all away, but she couldn't, so she curled more tightly in on herself.

Yang decided to become the smallest possible ball that she could be. Not trusting herself to speak, she had to hope Weiss would get the hint and leave her alone.

"Yang…" Her voice was softer now, her thumb softly stroking the bedsheet, and subsequently, the shoulder that was beneath it. She had promised to be there for her team, had told Yang directly that she would not abandon her. It was all well and good to say that, but she had no idea how to comfort a person in tears. Weiss knew the mentality, staying quiet so as not to alert anyone, to seem perfectly fine, even in the worst possible mindset.

She knew it well, the upbringing a familiar one, even if it was for different reasons.

Crying had never been permitted by her parents. To them, crying was a weakness. It was rarely even permitted by Klein, the family butler. To him, crying was not the answer to problems. Action was, and though he had dabbed at her cheeks several times when she was a child, she knew that he expected better of her. That although he would always try to help her when he could, there would always be times when he couldn't. Refusing to let her cry was his only method of truly helping her, because her father was a cold, ruthless man.

Winter was the same way, choosing action over emotion when and where it counted.

So, Weiss knew this personal struggle. Knew it so keenly that it brought a wave of anger to her on a silver platter. One that she didn't quite understand. A ball of ice freezing her gut in a way only her rage could. She sighed it all away. That was all she could do. Weiss swallowed down a thick ball of sadness in her throat. This was a time for action. The only question remained was _what action_?

Fingers drummed uneasily on Yang's covered shoulder as she sat there. Finally, she said the only thing she could think of to say. "I'm right here."

"Until you're not." Even with the sobs crashing into the words, Yang had said them with such conviction. As though she knew it was going to be the truth.

Weiss hated the thought of it. That she would so easily throw away what little notion of family she had left to grasp onto. The mere idea was sickening, and she rejected the sensation outright. She began to move the blonde tresses, manipulating them away from Yang's face. The entire time, she felt as if she were stepping right onto broken glass. Lilac eyes were so crystal clear to her, the way that the moonlight hit them leaving no question to how wet they were, and how tearstained everything around Yang was. Her cheeks, her pillow, even part of the sheets she had buried her face in.

The weight of it all was crushing. "I'd never willingly abandon you."

"But you will. They always do."

Weiss licked her lips. There were so many promises she couldn't make to Yang. Ones that a more impulsive person might have made. There were a lot of possibilities and reasons for why she might leave Yang's side. If her father came after her, as history proved he might, they could be forced to part ways for some length of time again. If she happened to be injured, she would need to rest and recover. In that instance, the rest of the team might not have the luxury to wait for her. Death was always a dark, but possible outcome.

Then there were the circumstances she had no basis for, but knew existed. The future was not a promise, it would never be a grantee. Weiss sighed at length once more. There were no words she could speak that would really help Yang.

She needed a different tactic, thinking about the young horses she'd broken-in while she was at the manor. The colts were always so wild. Bucking around, fighting the handling of humans at every turn. Refusing firm yet gentle commands. Teaching them to trust humans was an effort in and of itself, being able to do more than that was sometimes impossible. Even once they were old enough to ride, it took a person with discipline and endurance to even get very far.

This was the same sort of test. One that would have to be committed to, and made for the long haul. Weiss had to make a choice, and she settled on it easily enough. Persistence would be key. She pulled back the sheet and laid down next to Yang, spooning her from behind, as if to cloak Yang in her presence. The sea of gold tresses in her face was almost stifling, but Weiss didn't let it deter her as she listened to Yang's unsteady breathing.

She wouldn't say anything else, wouldn't leave, unless Yang wanted her to. After a long stretch of time, the answer became obvious.

Yang didn't want to be alone.

Weiss tucked one hand under her head for support, as the other wandered aimlessly up and down Yang's arm. Her fingers finally trailing lower, ghosting around scar tissue. The point where flesh met metal had Yang jolting away as if she had been beaten, and Weiss sighed again. "You remind me of a newborn foal when you do that." Weiss said honestly, moving closer once more. She heard Yang sniffle, and she clicked her tongue against her teeth in admonishment when Yang pulled away again. "Do you want me to leave?"

Again, there was no answer, but the way Yang flinched violently against the question only proved Weiss to be correct. Yang didn't want her to leave. The mere idea seemed to agonize her.

Weiss closed her eyes, her voice consistent, same as her touch, beginning once again on Yang's shoulder. A gentle, constant, pressure. "You really are like a wild foal, you know. They're timid, yet fiercely stubborn creatures. I had to raise one without its mother once. It fought me at every turn." She murmured softly. "Even day old foals will sometimes gum at hay instead of drinking from the bottle. By seven days old, when they should drink about twenty-five percent of their weight in milk a day, they'll still go after the feedbox. You have to earn your trust with them. Seeing you like this, it reminds me of that time."

She trailed off, her fingers finding that spot again, only to have Yang flinch away again, this time, pressing near the wall. There was no escape now, as Weiss closed that distance a final time. "Don't fight me, Yang." Yang's aura wasn't flaring, indicating that it wasn't reacting to stimuli. It wasn't pain that was making Yang pull away, but something else entirely. Weiss reached out one more time, this time forgoing Yang's arm completely.

Weiss slowly draped her arm across the woman's waist. She grabbed a fist full of Yang's orange tank-top, clinging onto it. In doing so, her arm felt sandwiched between Yang and the wall, the position uncomfortable to say the least.

She hoped it provided some measure of comfort, because words seemed inadequate to fill the empty space. Silence a crucible they would have to either endure, or break. After speaking so much, and gaining little in the way of victory, Weiss was too tired to use her voice further, too mentally drained by her exercise in what she felt might be futility.

With no more clues, they were inclined to stay that way, neither of them sleeping well. The discomfort too tangible, for too many different reasons.

The next morning had been no easier.

Weiss was an early riser by nature, but her arm had grown stiff during her vigil, her mind a slow crawl as she dozed lightly. Even with the morning sun brightly telling her that it was time to get up, she simply couldn't bring herself to do so. It wasn't because she didn't want to, she was just tired. So very, very tired. The idea of slipping into slumber would mean leaving Yang alone, and she could feel the exhaustion seeping into Yang's body, same as her own.

If it was a sense of unease, distrust, or some other complication holding Yang back from truly relaxing, Weiss wasn't sure. Still, she hesitated to pull back, to go back to her own bed, and get some actual sleep. Doing so would be ignorant of her promise to Yang. To pointedly give up on a woman who rarely gave up on anyone. Weiss frowned deeply, knowing that such a kind heart had been tarnished with the bitterness provided by her mother, sharing words that were not only unkind, but pointedly cruel.

What was even worse, was the reality Weiss had known from the start.

Nothing would be solved from locking away these venomous emotions. Yang had to let it out, bleeding it from her body with all of the usual rage Yang was prone to showing when provoked. It might not solve anything, but the release of that might have provided an outlet. As it stood, the blond wouldn't even be given that, and instead of just blowing up anyway, she was suppressing everything.

Willingly at that...

Weiss dragged herself out of bed, not because she wanted to, but because someone had to. She prayed that like the lost creature Yang was, the blonde would eventually seek comfort and follow in search of others. Failing that, a warm breakfast and something for hydration would do her some good, and that could only be attained if someone went to fetch it. Weiss dressed before padding out into the kitchen, her actions pointedly louder and more deliberate than usual.

What she found when she got there, was not the man she wanted to see.

"Hey, how is she?" The male voice asked dully. Obviously he knew perfectly well why Yang wasn't already making a ruckus in the kitchen.

Leaning heavily on the counter, Weiss sagged, looking at the trickling coffee pot. The dark drips coaxing her eyes to focus on them, and subsequently, the dark pool they made in the pot. It smelled wonderful, but the dark brown liquid seemed black and unsightly in that moment. "If you feel the need to ask that, then you are truly a complete and total moron."

"Don't need to tell me that." He grumbled. "The kid's my niece, I have a right to know these things. Especially after you two showed up the way you did."

Weiss reached for two mugs, throwing a glance over her shoulder. "She isn't a child, and even if the statement was made in humor, that could be seen as insulting." She filled the mugs, adding only a dollop of cream, a dash of cinnamon, and the tiniest amount of sugar to suit Yang's taste. "As for how she's doing, look and see for yourself."

"Nah, not my place." He leaned back in his chair then, regarding Weiss thoughtfully. "Like you said, she's not a baby. I don't need to coddle her. Just one thing though, Schnee. Don't go questioning my way of dealing with my family. That's not ground you've got to stand on, it ain't your business, got it?"

Clutching at the mugs, Weiss shot him a cold, merciless glare. Maybe it was her lack of sleep, or the lies she now knew this family had buried deep. In part, she knew that the pedestal Ruby put her uncle on, didn't line up with the man sitting in front of Weiss in this moment. The thin pretenses and deceits were implications of worse, and from an outsider's perspective, Qrow wasn't to be trusted.

If anything, he was perhaps more abusive than Raven. His kindness and care were an excuse for his vices and his manipulations, well-intended or not.

Whatever it was that had begun to simmer her anger, it boiled tenfold at the cocky look aimed right back at her. Now she knew why her sister would so readily place aside decorum when dealing with Qrow. She felt a twisted desire to do the same. The words spewed from her lips before she could stop them, like a presser valve finally releasing. "It became my business the moment she spent the night in tears while I was there to witness it."

"That so?"

"It is so! If you take issue with that, then blow it out of your ass with the rest of your moral ineptitude." Weiss spat. "I couldn't possibly care what the man at the bottom of the bottle has to say." Then she slammed her untouched coffee onto the table, sloshing it everywhere. "Sober up."

It wasn't her most decorous moment, surely, but the shock on his face did wonders for her temper.

She stormed out of the room regardless, but felt lighter on her feet in the moments thereafter. Taking Yang a warm beverage wasn't a complicated task, but it felt right to do something. To be the active party Yang had seemingly never had. She refused to just sit idly by, to accept things as they were. She just hoped that such a small token gesture would not grow cold by Yang's bedside.

* * *

That night, innocent as it was, became a bedrock within their friendship.

Yang had miraculously taken the coffee, and accepted it from Weiss whenever the woman handed her the cup as the days continued to trickle by. Just like a foal learning to accept a human's kindness, Yang was beginning to rely on Weiss, as the white haired woman had intended.

That dependency became fundamental for the both of them. For a small handful of years, it was still as innocent as could be expected. Weiss had only wanted to help Yang, nothing more or less than that. The confines of friendship changed though. When and where exactly, Weiss could never directly pinpoint. All she knew was that when the realization hit, it crashed over her like a wave, and sunk into her like a poison.

At first, Weiss tried desperately hard to keep her feelings locked away. She did a good job of it too. Naturally, extended missions left very little room to deal with relationships. She didn't have the time to fixate, or the energy to really worry.

That's what made everything so incredibly difficult.

Yang, the wild soul that she was, would come and go as she pleased. Neither one of them really admitting to the details surrounding them. Weiss had thought that Yang was more than happy to continue that trend, she was positive that the blonde didn't want commitment, or the implications of what exactly that meant. The trend would continue, Weiss presumed. It would go on the same as it always had, until she could no longer do anything but hate Yang.

Weiss knew, she was vindictive enough that one day, such a thing could come to fruition.

To her complete shock though, one morning things changed.

Weiss had gotten up to make a beeline to the coffee pot, as usual, when something snagged the corner of her eye. An image she hadn't expected to see. Just like that, the ritualized ignorance surrounding them snapped into billions of tiny pieces. The expected had become the unexpected, and the routine was blown entirely to oblivion. "Yang?"

"Hey."

"You're crying." She sat her mug down, forgotten entirely as she went to Yang's side. The woman sprawled across the floor as she looked out of the large windows. Whatever she was searching for, Weiss couldn't even begin to guess. Either way, she was almost positive Yang wouldn't find it out there. She knelt down onto the floor.

"Weiss, do you think what we're doing is the right thing?" It was a question that seemed disjointed. As if Yang wasn't asking it, but rather parroting what she heard from someplace.

"In what context?" It wasn't the thing Weiss meant to say, her tongue twisting defenses quickly. Now that it had flown out of her mouth, Weiss knew taking it back would be the wrong thing to do. Shamefully, she chose to stay quiet.

"Us." Yang murmured. "Do you think that we…that this…" She trailed off. "What is this, Weiss? What are we?"

Weiss swallowed hard, her throat feeling like sand paper. Yang looked at her, puffy eyed, obviously expecting something.

Weiss felt her knees complain about the hardness of the wood flooring, nothing soft beneath them in the slightest. Weiss even regretted having the floor freshly polished, she could faintly see Yang's reflection in the wood, and in the glass of the window as well. What was the right thing to say to that, really? When everything she wanted to say would only skew the odds in her favor, there was no favorable reply.

Sighing, Weiss said nothing. Instead, she simply did the same thing she always did when she found herself at a loss for words. She made Yang a cup of coffee, and sat with her in silence.


End file.
